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Twenty-One
My elbows poppedas I stretched my arms above my head. I’d been working at my laptop for most of the day, but I’d accomplished a lot. And I’d been able to watch Christmas specials while I did it. A restful day followed by a date with Jalen tonight. That sounded like the perfect way to continue a great holiday weekend.
I’d ultimately decided to close the office and work from home today. Black Friday was important for retailers all over the country, but I doubted anyone would be clamoring to come see a PI today. It wasn’t like I was offering some sort of two-for-one discount or something like that. I had a feeling some people might’ve expected just that if they’d seen I was open today.
It hadn’t been until earlier this afternoon that I’d realized how much Adare had been preparing me to take over until I opened the books. As I went through the now familiar process, I remembered how often over the months before she died that she’d had me doing them for her. She’d said it was because she hated working with numbers, and as her employee, I got to do the things she didn’t want to do.
Now, I knew it was because she’d wanted me to not only be familiar with the way things were done. She’d also known I’d need to be able to pick up without needing a learning curve.
There had been one thing, however, she had kept from me. I’d known that Burkart Investigations was doing well, but I hadn’t realized that she’d invested some of the profits over the years, then cashed them out shortly before she died. The business had a savings account that could keep things running for two years without me taking a single client.
Even as I stared at the numbers, I still couldn’t quite believe it. Because of her careful planning, I’d be able to hire a receptionist right away and be able to take my time finding the right investigator. And I could do it all without feeling guilty about taking on pro bono cases.
Adare would’ve been pleased.
My cell phone rang, and I picked it up without looking at the screen. “Hello?”
“Where is my daughter?” The man’s voice was angry, but I could hear the bright thread of panic weaving through his words.
“Who is this?” My question was blunt but necessary. Reacting to the accusation wouldn’t do anything but cause an argument.
“Is this Rona Quick?” He sounded uncertain now.
“It is,” I said. “May I ask with whom I’m speaking?” Politer, more formal. Hopefully, it would prompt him to answer my question, and then I could figure out what exactly was going on.
“Elliot Johnson. I’m Stacey’s father.”
Shit.
“Mr. Johnson, I don’t know where your daughter is.” I kept my tone even, but inside, my stomach was twisting into knots.
Any missing kid case would tear me up, I knew, but Stacey…she was Jenna’s sister. And if the teenager’s disappearance was related to my finding her, I’d never forgive myself.
“Like hell you don’t!”
The anger was back again, but I didn’t care if he was furious with me. I just needed him to believe me so that we could start looking for Stacey.
“I swear to you, Mr. Johnson, I haven’t seen Stacey or talked to her. I’ve respected your wishes and left her alone.”
“Then her sister has her. Give me the bitch’s name, and I’ll leave you alone.”
I ignored the automatic need to protect my friend. His thirteen-year-old daughter was missing. I’d be freaking out too. Jenna would have agreed with me.
“Why?” I shook my head, trying to understand. “Does Stacey even know about her sister?”
That silenced him, but only for a moment. “Not from us, she doesn’t, but I wouldn’t put it past you and the woman who hired you to wreck our lives to do something behind my back.”
Anger rose inside me, but I forced it down. “I certainly did no such thing, and I’ll call my client to ask if she’s seen or heard from Stacey, but I know this woman very well. She was disappointed that you didn’t want the two of them to meet, but she understood and accepted your decision. She wouldn’t have gone against your wishes, and if Stacey had come to her, she would’ve contacted you. At the very least, she would have called me to contact you on her behalf.”
“She has to have her. It’s the only explanation.”
He was grasping for an answer that would allow his daughter to be safe and give him someone to be mad at, I realized. I didn’t try to argue with him. Wasting time wasn’t what we needed right now.
“When did you last see her?”
“This morning when she left with Roberta to hit the Black Friday sales.”
Okay, that was a bit more literal than I’d meant it to be. “What about your wife? When did she last see Stacey?”
